


Heat

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Eagle and the Cross [24]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Freckle counting, Haytham has freckles, Haytham in his boxers, I don't think it needs to be continued honestly, I like this one because it's overall sweet, I was listening to "Waste My Time" by Saint Asonia while writing this, bit of angst, heat wave, no plans to continue, they're maroon by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boston is suffering a major heat wave and Haytham had a miserable day at work. He just wants to go and lay on his bed and be a big blah. Ziio wants to count the freckles on his back instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

"It's hot folks! Hot, hot, hot; and it doesn't look like this heat will be letting up any time soon. The next few days will be scorc—" Haytham turned the radio off as he pulled into the garage of his apartment building. He didn't need to be told by some habitually lying weatherman what he already knew. Everyone was unhappy with the heat. At least it was cool in the parking garage. He parked his car with a sigh, shutting the machine off. He sat there, holding his car keys in his hand. He ran his thumb along the little leather circle, feeling the beads stitched into it. He smiled, then looked at his blazer and briefcase with a frown. "Fuck," he muttered, grabbed his briefcase and blazer and got out of the car.

He reached his apartment; empty and sweltering. He tossed his blazer onto the back of a chair and set his briefcase in the seat, turned the air conditioning on, setting it to a freezing sixty degrees. He slipped his shoes off and made his way to his bedroom, undoing his tie and shirt, tossing them onto the chair in his bedroom. He closed the blinds in the bedroom to keep the late afternoon sun from pouring in, and stared at the bed. One side neat and made the other side unkempt, the pillow at an angle. Haytham chewed his lip, took his slacks off and tossed them at the hamper in the corner. They flopped into a heap next to the hamper. He took his watch off and set it on the dresser before standing at the foot of his bed in his undershirt, boxers and socks.

Heaving a great big sigh, Haytham leaned forward and fell face first onto his bed, bouncing twice. He groaned, yanked at the hair tie until his hair was free and pushed his locks up until his neck was exposed. He grabbed the pillow on the unkempt side of the bed and buried his face into it. The scent of coconuts filled his nose and a tiny smile graced his lips. He loved the smell of her conditioner.

He didn't know how long he lied there, clutching her pillow, trying to decompress from the absolutely shitty day he had at work. He didn't want to be touched, didn't want to move, didn't want to do a damn thing. Let the world crash and burn around him, he didn't care. He had no more fucks to give.

The bed sagged and he felt a weight on him, hands on his shoulders and a head resting just below the base of his neck. "Hey, when did you get home?" a woman asked.

"Ziio, it's bloody hot," Haytham mumbled into her pillow. She chuckled, light and mirthful. "I mean it, Ziio. I'm bloody hot."

"Of course you are," she said, "I wouldn't be dating you if you weren't."

Haytham sighed, "I should be offended, but I frankly don't have the energy to be offended." Ziio laughed, rubbing her face into his back.

"So how was work?" she asked, pushing up his shirt to his shoulders. He sighed, relaxing as her fingertips trailed lightly over his skin.

"Miserable. My client wants… I'm not even sure he knows what he wants," Haytham mumbled. "I like your conditioner."

"Thanks," Ziio said.

"It smells nice."

"It's coconut, oh there's one, and another," she said, tapping lightly at the freckles on his back. He turned his head to eye her; she wore an old salmon pink t-shirt and booty shorts, her hair was long and loose and she lacked the tribal jewelry she normally wore.

"What are you doing?" he asked, squeezing her pillow.

"Counting your freckles," she replied, running a hand through her black hair. "There's another one, that brings the count to nineteen. It's hard though, since your shirt is in the way."

"I can fix that," he said, and pushed himself up onto his knees, grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed the garment at the hamper. It connected, hung on the edge before falling on top of his slacks.

"You missed," Ziio stated bluntly as Haytham threw up his hands.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," Haytham grumbled.

"Hey," she held up her hands, "just doin' my job." He glared at her, before flopping back onto his stomach. He felt Ziio's weight shift, the bed squeaking, before she settled herself on the small of his back. He shivered when her fingers brushed his hair away from his neck. "One, two, three…"

Haytham sighed, content as she tapped each little mark she found on his back. "Where are we going in this relationship?" he asked.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… what do you mean where are we going? …eighteen, nineteen, hmm, oh there's twenty," Ziio said.

"You know what I mean, we've been dating for over two years and I want to know do you see a future for us?"

"The past is history, the future is a mystery, but this moment is a gift," Ziio said, "that's why it's called the present."

"Ziio," Haytham whined. She chuckled, leaned forward and kissed his neck.

"Well, what do you want, then?" she asked. He sighed, rolling over. He rested his hands on her hips and stared up at her. "Oh, look! Twenty-one and twenty-two!" she snickered, tapping his nipples.

"Those are my nipples, Ziio," he said, deadpan. She tossed her head back and cackled, he couldn't help but laugh as well, a half-smile appearing on his face.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm." He slid his hands up her shirt, enjoying the feel of her skin. "And as for your question, I want several things."

"Oh, like what?" she asked, lifting her arms as his hands slid further up, with his help she shimmied out of her shirt. He didn't answer at first, smiling as he lazily traced the lace on her bra.

"I like this bra," he said.

"Victoria's Secret," she chimed.

"Ah."

"What do you want?" Ziio asked, leaning forward, until her head was resting on his shoulder and arms on either side of his head. He lacked his fingers together at the small of her back and kissed the top of her head.

"I want Hickey to stop being an ass," he said.

"That'll never happen."

"My mother to stop calling me Hammie."

"Hahaha, she won't and if she does I'll start," Ziio said, pushed herself up so she can look at Haytham's face, her fingers began to play with his hair. "Hammie," she teased, tapping his nose. He playfully tried to bite it. Ziio giggled. "What else?"

"Hmm… I'd like to make partner, and for my father to stop being well… himself."

"The world will be a duller place the day Edward Kenway stops being himself, you know that and I know that," Ziio said, leaning forward and kissing his throat. Haytham sighed, fingers slipping passed the waist band of Ziio's shorts.

"Ziio," he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"What if we got married?" he asked.

"Married?" Ziio sat up at that. "Married."

"Yes, married," Haytham said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Is there something wrong with getting married?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with _other people_ getting married, but…"

"But there's something wrong with _us_ getting married?" Haytham asked. Ziio sighed, rolling off of him and sitting at the foot of the bed. She didn't say anything, plucking at a loose thread. "Ziio."

"Why do you want to get married?" she asked. He frowned, crawling over to her. He sat behind her and pulled her flush against his chest. He interlaced his hands with hers. "People can be in a relationship and have kids and not get married."

"I know," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"So, why do you want to get married?" Ziio asked. "Is it because you're old?"

"I'm thirty, I'm hardly old," Haytham huffed.

"And I'm twenty-four," Ziio said, "I have things I want to do with my life."

"Marriage won't stop you, besides if you want to travel we can travel. I make enough money where we can take trips to Europe or wherever you want to go."

"What if I fall out of love with you?" Ziio asked, turning her head to look at him. He pulled away slightly and stared at her. She felt him tense when she said that and almost regretted even voicing that thought.

"Are you saying you don't love me?" Haytham asked, his voice surprisingly steady; then again he's always been good at remaining calm under pressure. "Because if that's the case we should end this relationship now."

"No, I'm not saying that," Ziio huffed. She ran her hands through her hair. "I'm saying that… what if we get married and then we find out that we don't work?"

"I'm not following you. We've been living together since last year. Surely we'd've noticed if we didn't work."

"I'm Mohawk and you're British."

"Am not. I was born here. My parents are British. They immigrated into the United States before I was born. I've told you that before. Again, I don't see what our ethnicity has to do with getting married. If you want to have a wedding that adheres to your people's customs than fine. We'll have two weddings. One for my family and one for your family."

"What if we have kids and end up getting a divorce? Divorces are messy. Especially ones that involve kids."

"Ziio, I'm not even sure I want kids," Haytham muttered. "Besides, I believe we can work out our problems. If some unforeseen problem comes up, we can work it out. I'm not asking you to become a housewife. You can still work at the restaurant, if you are afraid of losing your independence. We don't have to do everything jointly. If it's the age gap well, my father is several years older than my mother."

"Yes, but…" Ziio was silenced when Haytham kissed her.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers and stroking her temple with his thumb. "We've been dating for over two years and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Haytham."

"When I try to think of a future without you in it, all I see is misery and gloom. You bring such a brightness to my otherwise dull life that I simply don't want to go back to it."

"What about your job?" Ziio asked.

"What does my job have to do with any of this?" Haytham asked. "Am I really such a bad person that I'm un-marry-able?"

"That's not even a word," Ziio grumbled.

"Shakespeare invented one thousand and seven hundred words."

"You aren't Shakespeare," Ziio counted. "And you're not. It's just that sometimes… you get so caught up in your work that you forget about me. And when you do share about your work… how can you separate a mother or a father from their children? Doesn't it break your heart?"

"Of course it does," Haytham muttered, "but it's not my place to decided such things. I'm simply a servant of the law and my client. Sometimes one parent is ill-fit to be a parent while the other isn't but most of the time the child has to go with the unfit parent because of the law."

"That's not fair! It's not right either!"

"I know," Haytham muttered. "I know." He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "The law is an amoral bitch; you just have to accept that and move on."

"Why did I have to fall for a divorce lawyer?" Ziio grumbled.

"Because I'm bloody hot?"

"Bastard," Ziio giggled, slapping his shoulder.

"Sorry, but I know my father," Haytham chuckled. Ziio huffed, rolling her eyes but a smile was on her lips. "Will you at least think about getting married. We can just go to the court house and get a marriage license and not have a big ceremony until you want one or whatever," Haytham muttered.

"I'll think about it," Ziio agreed. Haytham smiled and kissed her. He took his time, kissing her deeply and sinfully.

"Good," he muttered against her lips. He smiled, pecked her lips again and slipped off the bed. He yawned with a stretch. "Now, let's get something to eat. I'm hungry."

"That sounds like a good idea. I'm in the mood for Chinese."

"Really? You aren't going to cook something?"

"Nope. It's too hot to heat up this place. Plus, it's my day off, I don't wanna cook on my day off."

"Fair enough," Haytham agreed, pulling on a pair of lounge pants. "Any particular place in mind?"

"The Jade Phoenix," Ziio said, "they have good noodles. Oh by the way, Haytham," Ziio said.

"Hmm?" he tugged a shirt over his head.

"I'm pregnant."

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft 
> 
> :3  
> Yes, wail in frustration! Rage in frustration! Revel in it! Muwhahahahaaha!
> 
> I wanted this to be cute and fluffy but these two like to throw in angst. Le sigh. So, you got some angst. Yes, Haytham is in his boxers, they're maroon by the way with a grey waistband and are made by Fruit-of-the-Loom.
> 
> Save an author; leave a review.


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